Uniformed Disorders
by Resident Quetzal
Summary: It was a perfectly fine day until the colonel picked up that document. Naturally, all his subordinates, inclusive of a certain two wandering alchemists, were dragged into the fray. Chaos ensues. Slight RoyAi, hinted EdWin.
1. Part I

**Title: Uniformed Disorders  
Prompt/Inspiration: Military Yard Sale (Provided by Tusca Lusca, a good friend of mine)  
Summary: It was a perfectly fine day until the colonel picked up that sheaf of paper. Naturally, all his subordinates, inclusive of a certain two wandering alchemists, were dragged into the fray. Everything went downhill from then on.  
Pairings: Mild RoyAi, hinted EdWin, if you squint  
Category: Humour/Drama  
Rating: T  
Warnings: Alchemical violence. Slight swearing. Insults-hurling between a certain pair of State Alchemists. Partial nudity and stripping on Armstrong's part.  
Co-authored by Tusca Lusca, who kindly provided some scenarios and tweaked the plot to make it coherent. This is mostly in the mangaverse with a few adjustments here and there, so there might be slight spoilers (say, episode 13 of the anime or 'Military Festival' of volume 3). I guarantee nothing major.  
**

**Disclaimer: Quetz does not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Roy Mustang, Edward Elric & co. belong to Hiromu Arakawa, and I am merely borrowing them for entertainment purposes.**

**A/N: Well, after lurking around for goodness-knows-how-many-years, I've finally plucked up the courage to write a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfic. I hope you can find as much joy in it as I had when writing it.**

* * *

**Part I: The Days Before**

It was a typical morning at the Central Headquarters of the Amestris State Military. The day had barely begun, but since it was in the middle of a working week, many soldiers were already present in the compound, and could be seen performing their duties. Those of lower ranks scurried about, doing odd jobs for the officials and higher-ups of the military. Some, as sentries, stood at guard by the gates, saluting any high-ranker stiffly before assuming their previous stances. Humming and whirling noises came from the garage, where cars were being started up in preparation of the watch units' daily patrols of the city. Gunshots rang out from the shooting range, credits to the army's sharpshooters and early birds who had decided on some target practice before work.

The offices were already buzzing with activity, as the various higher officers and their subordinates slaved at their work, speedily signing papers and filing the reports that came in from the four other headquarters and the field. There were application forms to fill, damage costs to tally and new policies to look over and approve, if need be. Time was precious, and a second wasted meant three seconds to be spent in completing work previously left undone. Discipline was tight, too, and all the soldiers slugged away, afraid of the sharp reprimands of their superiors. It was a typical Wednesday indeed, despite the tense and anticipating air hovering around the whole compound.

However, not even the Wednesday work rush, nor army discipline – nigh, not even the recent news that something big was happening soon – could hinder colonel Roy Mustang in his work, or lack thereof.

"Argh," he groaned, burying his fingers in his black hair. "I swear, this will be the death of me."

"At least do something while you complain, Chief. We're all working our asses off here," second lieutenant Jean Havoc reminded him while peering in through his open office door.

Roy merely ignored him, turning instead to scowl at the mountainous pile of paper occupying nearly half of his desk. No matter how hard he tried, the pile never seemed to decrease, and so he had given up after a few sheets. Most of it was rubbish, anyway, consisting of demands for pay rises from people he didn't even know (just because he had been the commanding officer of Eastern HQ didn't mean that he could promote some random idiot out of the blue, dammit! Even his subordinates knew better, though that didn't stop Havoc from trying once in a while), requests to install a billiard room or open a gambling joint (was this place a military building or a gambling den?), fan and hate mails alike, though the former were in greater abundance (dear lord, how did they get in there?). Finally, after much sifting, the actual documents were discovered and signed. The colonel knew that neither of his subordinates had any hidden terrors lurking within their paperwork, and this thought only served to worsen his foul mood, draining away his already limited motivation to work. Dark onyx eyes drifted to the empty desk nearby.

"I need my daily dose of Hawkeye," he thought. A tendril of smoke wafted into the office, bringing with it the welcome aroma of freshly brewed coffee. "Ah, here she comes, and with coffee!"

Sure enough, first lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was striding into his office with two steaming mugs of coffee perched upon a black plastic tray.

"My saviour!" Roy cried, accepting a mug. It was black and unsugared, just how he liked it and perfect for early morning paperwork-signing marathons. "Riza Hawkeye, you are the angel descended from the heavens to bring salvation-"

The blond-haired woman cut off his tirade. "That's all very well, sir," she said frostily, "but your salvation will not be imminent unless that stack of reports is looked through and signed by noon."

Roy heaved a deep sigh and reluctantly picked up his fountain pen. That was Hawkeye for you, he though resignedly. However, with his trusted lieutenant back by his side and caffeine flowing strongly through his veins, the colonel set to work with renewed vigour, sorting through the hill of processed tree pulp with increased enthusiasm. He even consented to scan through three fan mails, one hate mail and one promotion request, though all of them were promptly tossed into the cylindrical contraption labeled 'TRASH' beside his polished desk.

"Sir?"

Roy raised his head and shot a questioning look at Riza. In response, she nodded towards the oaken doors of his office, from which came a multitude of rapping sounds. He recognised the knocking at once. Only one person would have that slight metallic 'thunk' embedded into each knock that he made.

Setting his pen aside, the colonel steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the surface of his desk. Perhaps the day would not be as uneventful as he thought it would.

"Come in."

The doors swung open, letting in a suit of armour and a teen clad in a black jacket, black pants, and a long red coat. The latter dragged his feet as he walked, and Roy knew that Edward Elric was a perfectly unwilling guest.

"Took you long enough," Ed growled, glaring at him.

"Nii-san, don't be so rude," a voice emanated from the armour, its young tone contrasting greatly with its owner's outer appearance. Alphonse Elric might have had his soul trapped in metal plates, but his true personality was all but what his tough steel exterior portrayed.

Years of traveling had left its signs on the two brothers, Roy observed. The pair had gone off on another lead of the Philosopher's Stone again, this time in the far north, but they looked none the worst besides some tattered clothes and a few more scratches on Al's metal body. Considering the Fullmetal Alchemist's five-week absence from Central City, Roy decided that a little joke couldn't hurt. Discourtesy to one's superiors was a punishable act, after all.

"Hmm, chuui? Did anyone come in? I could've sworn I heard knocking," the man tilted his head slightly, as though straining to look out of his open door.

Riza, used to her boss's habits after working with him for so long, merely made a noncommittal noise and went back to her job of sorting out his paperwork. Roy shrugged, leaned back on his swivel chair, and pretended to just notice Al.

"Morning, Alphonse. Welcome back to Central. I hope you found something useful this time. Where's your brother anyway? He knows that he has to submit a report."

Without waiting for Al to reply, Roy made exaggerated movements of looking around his office. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the little stand of hair on Ed's head twitch.

"It's coming," was the thought of all three unvertically-challenged people in the room. Two sighed mentally, but the third waited with eager anticipation. "It's coming."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A MICROCHIBI SO SHORT THAT YOU NEED TO PEER AT THE GROUND WITH A MICROSCOPE TO SEE HIM!!!?" Edward Elric, youngest (and smallest, thought Roy truthfully) alchemist of the state, erupted, arms flailing and rage practically flashing out of his eyes.

Chuckling inwardly, Roy feigned a look of surprise. "Fullmetal? So _that_ was where you were. I'm sorry; paperwork has been piling up lately and I couldn't spot you behind this stack."

He gestured to the pile beside him which was, although a little large for undone paperwork, still no higher than his upper arm. Ed caught the hint.

"Leggo of me!" he yelled, for he had immediately been restrained by Alphonse. "He was asking for a knuckle sandwich!"

"Nii-san, you can't do that!"

"I so can! Look, that idiot's grinning! Just let me get one punch in! I'll use my left fist!"

"I can get you court-martialed for assault, you know," Roy stated sternly, though his true mood was betrayed by the full-blown smirk set on his face. "And you were supposed to submit a report, I believe?"

Ed made a sound akin to that of an enraged animal, but his rational mind told him that his struggles were futile. Taking a deep breath, he tried to regain his composure, and rubbed his sore arms when Al had decided it was safe to release him. After that, he picked up his suitcase, which was lying in a corner after being violently kicked, and retrieved a small stack of papers. This was unceremoniously dumped on Roy's desk.

"Here's your precious report, Mustang. I hope your paperwork kills you."

"Nii-san!" Al chided.

Roy grimaced as he reached for a file to store Ed's newest report in. "That might happen sooner than you think, Fullmetal," he mumbled, returning his gaze to the newly-stacked sheets.

A sheaf of paper, held together by a paperclip, hung from the top of the pile. Reaching out, the colonel snagged it.

"Might as well get started," he thought and lifted his pen. His hand froze halfway when his eyes registered the contents of the paper.

The fountain pen fell from his fingers with a clatter. Disregarding the fact that there was an ink spill on his desk which would probably take ages to remove and leave a stain anyway for all his troubles, Roy grabbed the document with both hands, turning over the pages with an uncommon fervor and with, more rarely, close attention to what was printed on it. He felt the astonished and puzzled looks sent his way, but ignored them in favour of extracting more information from the crisp, type-written words on the double-bonded paper.

Done with his task, Roy raised his head to see three pairs of curious eyes – well, technically Alphonse didn't have eyes, being a suit of armour and all, and so couldn't look confused, but Roy felt sure that the younger Elric was equally weirded out – staring at him. He raised an eyebrow, the message "What? I _do_ work sometimes" evident in his coal-black eyes. His trusty lieutenant was the first to regain her composure.

"Taisa?" she ventured. Showing rare concern – at least she wasn't pointing a gun at him – she added, "Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing's amiss, chuui. I've simply unearthed something very interesting."

Roy did not know whether to groan at the paperwork to be done or laugh at the fun he was about to have. He settled on an evil smirk as a compromise. His mind then alerted himself to the fact that the Elric brothers were still in the office.

"Fullmetal, I'll look through your report," he said, ignoring the teen's mutterings about the general topic of lazy, bastard colonels. "You're dismissed. Send Havoc, Falman, Breda and Fuery in on your way out."

Roy then recalled something and called out to Ed's retreating form. "On second thought, just call them in. This issue concerns you, too."

* * *

"Right, gentlemen," Roy stood up and rested his palms firmly on his desk. The papers in question sat on the polished wooden surface before him. "We have a matter of utmost importance to settle." 

The aforementioned military men stood stock still. Riza, from her position behind the colonel's desk, also stood at attention. Even the Elric brothers were listening intently. Roy Mustang did not use _that_ tone unless something serious was about to happen.

Roy picked up the document, cleared his throat, and, in a voice that rang out to the furthest corners of the room, made an announcement that spelt the doom for everyone in the days to come.

"I've just found an interesting piece of news. It goes as follows:

_To whom it may concern;_

_Dear Sir/Madam,_

_With regards to the general welfare of the people of Amestris, the Department of Civilian Management will be organizing a yard sale at the Central Headquarters for Military Affairs on the 10__th__ of June, Saturday, from 1200h to 1800h to raise funds for the needy. In conjunction, a food and fun fair will also be held. All military personnel are required to participate, and are to report at the Headquarters at 0800h on the stated date. Each unit is to submit a proposal (Due 31__st__ May, 1200h) for a booth that is to be manned by its members, as well as to contribute used items that are still in working condition for the yard sale. Please note that no item of unsuitable content will be accepted. The event will be open to all members of the public in Central City, and officers and staff are encouraged to bring their families. Additionally, it is compulsory for all State Alchemists present to each create an individual work that will be displayed as an attraction. All proceeds from this event will go to XXX Society and YYY Organisation._

_Signed,_

--------------------------------------------------

_(Head of Department of Civilian Management)_

_Stamped and Approved by_

_King Bradley, Führer President of Amestris_

_Dated on Monday, 1__st__ of May, yyyy, at 0700h_

_THIS IS AN OFFICIAL DOCUMENT_

_NO COPIES ARE TO BE MADE WITHOUT FURTHER CONSENT_

That will be all," Roy finished, folding up the papers.

A thick blanket of silence smothered every one in the room, who had simultaneously come up with different (but all highly amusing, thought Roy privately) reactions to the sudden news.

Second lieutenant Jean Havoc dropped his lower jaw, causing the ever-present cigarette to fall out. He never picked it up. Roy tsk-ed mentally; he'd have to dock Havoc's pay for smoking in the office.

Second lieutenant Heymans Breda stood still and unmoving with an expression of shock etched onto his features. His superior wondered what would happen if he poked the frozen figure; he'd probably topple.

Warrant officer Vato Falman kept his composure. However, Roy caught the almost-invisible trembles running along his body, which only happened when the officer had received a huge, and usually unpleasant, surprise.

Master sergeant Kain Fuery had jerked in his alarm. His thick, black-rimmed glasses had slid off and were now dangling from one ear, but he was too preoccupied to adjust them. Briefly, Roy mused upon the topic of spectacles and considered purchasing a pair of shades.

Edward sported eyes the size of dinner plates and his sole standing strand of hair stood so straight up that (and here Roy bit back a laugh) he seemed almost tall. Al appeared unperturbed, being just a hollow shell of metal, but Roy could have sworn that the fourteen-year-old had gone slack-jawed.

"When you lot are done recovering from your astonishment, I want you to think up something for the fair," ordered the colonel as he stood up and folded his arms in the trademark I'm-your-commanding-officer-so-you'd-better-obey-me pose. "And start bringing in your junk tomorrow; I'd rather not find myself buried under moldy old clothes next week."

At this point in time, Riza approached her superior. She was the only one who had remained calm throughout the whole procedure (and probably knew about it already, since she goes through my paperwork, thought Roy ruefully). Now, she stood at attention until a nod sent her to the 'at ease' position.

"Permission to speak, sir?"

"Go on."

"That proposal is to be submitted by the 31st of May, at noon."

Roy frowned at the thought of datelines and paperwork. "I know, chuui. But today's only the…" His voice died down as his eyes locked onto the calendar perched at the corner of his desk. It read, in glaring red block letters: Wednesday, 31st of May.

"Damn," Roy cursed and flipped open his silver pocket watch. "Change of plans, gentlemen. I want you to come up with something and fill in this form before twelve. You have… twenty minutes. Good luck."

With that, he high-tailed out of the room, leaving a chaotic mess behind.

* * *

"Yo Roy!" a young man with cropped black hair and a small beard came up, slapping said officer on the back. "How's my old buddy doing?" 

His dark-haired companion frowned. "This had better not be something about your new photo album of your daughter or something, Maes."

Lieutenant colonel Maes Hughes mimed a stabbing motion at his chest and faked a hurt tone. "Right through the heart, Roy. What kind of guy do you take me for? I was inquiring about your health, but since you mentioned it, I did get this new lot of pictures developed! Look! Here's one of Elysia-chan when we went to the market last week! Doesn't she look absolutely adorable? And here's another-"

"Maes," Roy cut off the enthusiastic father's speech rather irritably. The irritation was due to the fact that he now had a photograph of Maes's three-year-old daughter plastered onto his visage, which he was studiously ignoring. "I'm working here. Go brag somewhere else."

He twirled his fountain pen around before signing the pressed parchment in front of him. "Whew, that's finally done and over with. Hawkeye-chuui, would you deliver this down to the Administrative Deparment? I'm temporarily incapacitated as it is."

Riza received the manila envelope from his hands and saluted.

"I wouldn't slack off if I were you, sir," she reminded him dryly. "You still have those reports to go through, as well as the Elric brothers' one." She then made a brisk exit.

"Hell, my life sucks," Roy whined, folding his arms on his desk and letting his head fall on them. "What am I doing in this accursed place anyway?"

Maes gave Roy a look of extreme pity and patted him comfortingly. "That's why I said you need to get a wife."

Raising his head a fraction, Roy glared through his dark bangs and his friend with cold, obsidian eyes. The lieutenant colonel took the cue and dropped the subject (for now). An image of the seals and stamps on a piece of typewritten paper flashed through his mind. It rang a distant bell.

"Was that the proposal for the MYS?"

"What?"

"**M**ilitary **Y**ard **S**ale," explained Maes with a hint of pride. "I came up with the term; isn't it nifty?"

"Har har, very funny," retorted Roy sarcastically. "But yeah, that was the proposal."

He watched with exasperation as his bespectacled friend suddenly let forth a flood of excited questions. "Ooh, what're you doing? Are Ed and Al involved too? Will you be selling stuff or manning a games booth? Are you-"

For the second time in half an hour, the older man was interrupted.

"It's none of your business," Roy stated shortly, clearly pissed off by the endless queries. "Why are you here? Isn't the Intelligence Department involved too?"

Maes paused to adjust his rimless spectacles which had slid down his nose. He then grinned smugly. "Yes, we are. However, our proposal was done two weeks ago."

Something about what he said and the way he said it gave Roy an ominous feeling. But before he could further contemplate that particular topic, Riza opened the door, thus halting the pair's conversation. Roy consulted his pocket watch again and realized that it was slightly past noon.

"Hawkeye, send the men in. I'll dismiss the unit for lunch break."

As the first lieutenant turned back, Maes piped up, "And call Ed and Al over too! It's been ages since I last saw them."

Roy hid a smile behind his clasped fingers. For all his kidding around, Maes was sure serious about the welfare of those around him. And for him to know about the arrival of the Elric brothers when they had reported straight to Roy's office upon their return…Well, he wasn't in Intelligence for nothing.

The double doors opened once more and seven figures filed in. Without waiting for the customary salute, Maes leapt forward to confront Ed and Al, and tried to force more photos of Elysia on them. ("Oh come on! You haven't seen her yet, right? Isn't she the sweetest and most angelic girl you've seen?")

Watching the display with barely concealed amusement, Roy decided to put in a few words. "I should get Maes to introduce you to her, Fullmetal. She's cute and just the right height for you."

"RAWR! WHO'RE YOU CALLING A SHRIMP SO PUNY THAT-" the rest of Ed's angry and expletive-filled narrative was muffled as Al grabbed him.

Laughing at the struggle – Al was clearly winning – Maes told his best friend, "They have a childhood friend back at Resembool. A girl by the name of Winry."

"Winry?" The image of a small girl with clear blue eyes and golden locks entered the other's mind. "The little blond girl with blue eyes?"

"Yep. Even though she's not so 'little' anymore; she's the same age as Edward."

"Ah." Roy flashed a knowing smirk at Ed and suggested, "You might want to get something at the fair next week for that girlfriend of yours, Edward. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

The teen immediately ceased his flailing and gawped at his superior officer. For a moment, the openings and closings of his mouth bore a striking resemblance to those of a goldfish. A brilliant shade of scarlet engulfed his features as Ed regained use of his voice, which he promptly made full use of.

"SHE'S JUST MY AUTOMAIL MECHANIC, DAMMIT!" he roared, only to be met with sniggers and chuckles from the men in the room. The fifteen-year-old turned angrily and stormed off, younger brother in tow. He took extra care to slam the doors very loudly.

"He's got it bad,' Roy commented, a Cheshire cat's grin stretched from ear to ear.

"Definitely," Maes agreed and faked a sigh of nostalgia. "Ah, to be young again…speaking of which, when are you going to take my advice and get a wife? My darling Elysia-chan needs a playmate, and I might consider introducing her to a Mustang Junior…"

It was the colonel's turn to look like a freshly-plucked beetroot, much to his chagrin and the amusement of his friend and subordinates. It wasn't every day that one got to see the renown ladies' man acting like an embarrassed schoolboy, and the sight of him trying desperately (and failing miserably) to hide his red-tinted cheeks only served to further the hilarity.

"W-what?" he spluttered indignantly. "Maes – I – You – ARGH!"

The strangled noise of frustration that escaped his lips triggered another bout of chortles from all present. Even Riza cracked out a smile. Somehow, thought Roy dejectedly, that made things even worse.

Recovering slightly, Roy tried to restore his shattered dignity, never mind that it had already been ripped to shreds and tossed out to the winds a long time ago. "Maes, I'm warning you-"

"-To keep it a secret? Sure, you can trust me! But hurry up with the proposing; people don't like being kept in the dark, and I want to meet the lucky girl…"

Roy found his fingers inching towards the drawer that stored his trusty pyrotex gloves. "Maes…"

"…And you'll have a lovely wedding! You'll wear black, of course, since white really doesn't suit you. And Elysia-chan can be your flower girl; just imagine how enchanting she'd look in a little white dress… like a princess out of the fairytales…" Cue the dreamy look of the devoted parent. "Oh, then comes the wedding night…"

What happened then shall be excluded due to the unsuitability of its contents with regards to the rating of this fic.

* * *

Later, Roy involuntarily found himself pondering on Maes's words, which he could not seem to get out of his head. 

"Trust the guy to bring up that topic," he thought irritably. "Not that I particularly care…"

Roy wasn't one who would place what he saw as needless emphasis on finding a perfect lifelong companion, but he sure could look after himself without his best friend fussing over him like some overprotective mother hen, thank you very much. Anyway, no one would expect the great Roy Mustang, the dream guy of every woman in Central, to have any problems concerning any member of the female gender.

On the other hand, something in what Maes said clung to him like one of his fangirls with the scary death-grips. If things had developed to such an extent that his best friend even had to plan out his wedding, reception and wedding night (which was a subject he didn't really want to dwell on for the time being) in full detail, then truly, something must be seriously screwed with his love life.

**End Part I  
**

* * *

A/N: Well, that's the introductory chapter. The fun begins in the next one. Reviews are welcome, constructive criticism greatly appreciated and flames will be used to roast a certain hagane no chibi-san. 

Quetz.**  
**


	2. Part II

**A/N:** Well, here's the main body. On a side note, I have nothing against Ed. He's one of my favourite characters, which is why I enjoy poking fun at him. Call me sadistic but yeah... and a sen (Amestris' currency), from what I know, is roughly equivalent to a Japanese yen, and a hundred yen makes roughly one US dollar. To my reviewers...

**Siacatmesecat: Thanks for the compliment! Sessha will try to live up to your expectations. The MYS is on the 10th; all civilians in Central are invited :P**

**HinduGoddess****: And your patience is rewarded! All will be revealed!**

**Harryswoman****: Thanks much. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Yun Min****: Now that you mention it, Ed does have a lot of fits. But then, he's over-paranoid. Look forward to more self-insults in this chapter. And let's not forget Intelligence's proposal...**

**ElricKeyblade****: Wow, you honour me. Thank you. And incidentally, I ship Ed/Win too, just not as much as Roy/Riza. **

Thank you soooo much for making my day by reviewing.

Anyway, this one is split into different scenes at different locations. It's longer, but I think easier to read. Enjoy!

**Disclaimers:** If I owned fma, I'd have remade the anime to fit the manga and make a new movie. Unfortunately, I don't, so none of these are likely to happen.

* * *

**Part II: The Day**

_**Date: 10**__**th**__** June**_

_**Time: 0829 hours**_

_**Location: Staff Office, Central HQ**_

The entire office was in an uproar as Colonel Roy Mustang's four diligent subordinates bustled around, packaging items and taking stock. Bits of paper littered the floor, mixed with plastic bags, discarded boxes and a jumble of other odds and ends. There was a pile of what the men had obviously deemed 'rubbish' in the middle of the room towering over all in the middle of the rather cramped room. A calendar tacked onto the corkboard proclaimed the date to be the 10th of June, Saturday, in large, bolded characters. The round-faced clock above it read at 0829 hours. The second hand ticked speedily and steadily.

It reached the peak of its journey up the clock face with another 'tick'. Immediately, the hour hand inched forward, while the minute hand leaped from its spot on one of the insignificant black lines to the number six.

"Good morning gentlemen! A fine day today, is it not?"

Cue in Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, colonel, lord of the office and a man with killer looks to boot. He sailed in grandly, half and hour late and carrying what looked to be a tightly-taped up cardboard box. So bright and happy was the aura hovering around him that not even the air of annoyance and frustration in the room could put a dent in it.

"Here's something for the yard sale," the dark-haired man said cheerfully, tossing the box to Havoc with a smooth flick of his wrist. "I'm off to do my work; call me if anything's up."

So saying, he practically bounced into his office, whistling merrily, and shut the oaken doors with a 'click'.

* * *

_**Time: 0831 hours**_

_**Location: Colonel Office (for want of a better name), Central HQ**_

Riza Hawkeye looked up from her task of proofreading her superior's paperwork. Upon Roy's entrance, she stacked the papers neatly atop the glass-top table and saluted. After Roy returned her greeting, she returned to her desk to fetch the day's load of forms for him.

"I take it that you've been emptying your in-tray, sir?" she asked as Roy took his seat on his favourite black armchair. His bright mood had not gone unnoticed by the sharp lieutenant.

The colonel leaned back on the chair with an expression of utmost bliss on his features. "Yeah, it's finally empty now, and at least the contents are being used in something for once."

"You shouldn't be doing that."

"No matter," replied Roy loftily. "They'll fetch quite a price anyway."

"It's not that, taisa. Those would, I believe, be in the category of 'items with unsuitable content'."

Hearing this did not perturb Roy. Instead, he merely gave the blond sharpshooter a crafty grin. "Ah, Hawkeye, you underestimate my prowess. Those things will be gone by nine; before the yard sale even starts."

Riza conceded to his point of view. "I suppose so, sir. But are you sure you can use them like that?"

"They were in my in-tray," retorted Roy defensively. "I can do what I want with them. Besides," here, he flashed a smirk at her, "aren't you glad my trash can's empty?"

* * *

_**Time: 0835 hours**_

_**Location: Staff Office, Central HQ**_

Four men stared with undisguised curiosity at the object in Havoc's hands. The item in question was a regularly-sized cardboard box, roughly ten by six inches, which sat quietly in the firm grip of the second lieutenant. The one thing that struck the soldiers to be out-of-place was the fact that it was securely taped with two bands of duct tape.

Havoc was the first to succumb to his inquisitiveness. He raised the box to his ear and gave it a tentative shake. Falman, Breda and Fuery leaned in compulsively, the unspoken question obvious on their faces.

A faint rustling sound emitted from within the box. Havoc shook it harder. The rustling grew louder as the contents shifted, not unlike the sound of the wind blowing through the fallen leaves of a cold autumn's day. Everyone now eyed the box with professional interest.

"Five hundred sens that it's Mustang's rubbish," Havoc offered, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"Seven hundred that it's something Chief doesn't want others to see," challenged Breda.

Falman made a noise of disagreement. "If that was the case, I don't think he'd give it to us in the first place. But I say a thousand that it's something he really wants to get rid of."

"Um," Fuery piped up shyly, still uncomfortable with his colleagues' gambling habits, "why don't we just open it?"

Havoc shrugged and passed the box to Falman, who had somehow gotten his hands on a penknife. The grey-haired soldier deftly slit the tape with the blade and lifted a cardboard flap. The men crowded around him, trying to sneak a peek.

"These are… paper," Breda observed, disappointed evident in his tone.

He then turned his eyes of Fuery; the young officer was gaping at the little square of white paper in his hand, a wave rapidly engulfing his features. "What's wrong?"

Puzzled, the stocky soldier flipped the paper around, and jawdropped at what he saw. Paper was not the true identity of the box's contents. Within an innocent cardboardy exterior lay a stash of photographs that were… not-so-innocent. The one he held was of a female brunette in a skimpy outfit that left little to the imagination. His blank mind briefly registered embarrassed coughs and cries of outrage. So the other two had caught on.

The one with the loudest protests was Havoc. "Why the hell does he always get the hot chicks! He goes on dates three times a week, dammit!"

"And you get dumped three times a day," Falman put in for accuracy's sake, causing Havoc to let out a tragic wail and fall to the floor in a sobbing heap of blue.

Due to the sudden overload of obviously R-rated information in his young and innocent mind, Fuery suffered a massive nosebleed and fainted. He fell next to Havoc with a thud.

"Oh dear," commented Falman.

"We should get rid of these. Chief said that they were for the yard sale anyway," Breda pointed out.

The downed second lieutenant immediately leapt up, a new fire buring in his eyes.

"Yes!" he shouted. "We must get rid of those – those – things! At this rate, he'll probably snag all the girls in Central before I even get a date!"

The two other men decided to humor him for the time being. Havoc was ignorant of the fact that most of his ex-girlfriends (when he succeeded in asking them out) had dumped him to chase after colonel Mustang. Roy's fanbase certainly far exceeded Havoc's in terms of numbers (and it was growing by the day), and thus it was near impossible for Havoc to date any girl while he still had the famous Flame Alchemist as his superior. As things went, it was better to keep the poor lieutenant in the dark about the whole matter.

"So, how do we sell them?" Falman inquired. "They're not exactly suitable for kids."

"Yes, but…" Havoc drew him and Breda closer, and a whispered conversation was carried out with much excited gesticulating.

* * *

_**Time: 0845 hours**_

_**Location: Colonel Office, Central HQ**_

Roy stretched lazily and attempted to stifle a yawn. Who knew that there would still be paperwork on a Saturday morning? And on the day of the yard sale, no less. He swept a stack of signed papers to a side of his desk and attempted to focus on his work. However, boredom prevailed, and before long he was doodling on the papers with his black fountain pen.

He had finished the outline and was about to proceed with the toning when the soft 'click' of a gun's safety catch made him sit straight up and freeze. After the instinctive move, he found himself staring down the cold metal barrel of a handgun. Holding the gun was none other than his faithful lieutenant: Riza Hawkeye, secretly dubbed by him as the Paperwork Nazi.

"Eheh, Hawkeye?" he laughed nervously and tried to escape her target crosshairs. It was futile; the gun was trained on him no matter which side he leaned (he briefly considered ducking under his desk). "How may I help you?"

Riza answered with an icy glare that immediately made Roy wilt. She always had a way to make him feel horribly guilty about skiving off work. And the message in her eyes and in her gun was clear: _Do or Die_.

A sudden noise made him spin around (ah, the joys of a swivel chair) to look out of the office window despite the fact that it was never good to turn one's back on a gun-wielding person. Especially when said person was your terror of a subordinate who happened to also be a professional sniper. However, something about the strange noise, which resembled the crackling of static that the military-issued loudhailers produced, told Roy that something interesting was about to happen.

"Chuui, take a look at the courtyard."

Roy turned his attention back to the scene unfolding below, where four blue-clad figures were steadily making their way to the centre of the courtyard. His men had apparently decided to take a break off their packaging. Or perhaps they had assumed that their superior had assigned them a task when he passed the box over. Or perhaps it was both. Workings of their minds aside, Roy had an inkling on what they were about to do.

Raising the bright red loudhailer to his lips, Havoc blared out an announcement. Due to the distance and the glass barrier between them, Roy did not manage to catch the whole message. What he did hear, however, was enough to confirm his suspicions.

"Calling…men in HQ… photos… hottest babes in…Central… Auction!"

The colonel nearly let out an incredulous snort at the last word. Trust them to think up something like that. But that was expected from his four subordinates, or three, as Roy had sighted master sergeant Fuery being dragged around with a thin line of red trickling down his nose. The Flame Alchemist concluded that the shock had been too much for the poor soldier.

Meanwhile, an enormous mass of people, mostly the male officers who were out for a coffee break (but Roy thought he spotted a few generals lurking nearby), had gathered. Havoc, Falman, Breda and Fuery were soon swamped by bill-wielding men determined (or desperate) to get their hands on a graphical representation of the famous beauties in Central. Cries like "CATHERINE! MY LOVE!" or "NOOOOO! JENNIFER IS MIIIIIIINE!!!" could be heard from the squabbling group. Despite the chaotic turn of events, the little box of photos was sold in record time.

Roy swiveled back to face his desk now that the show was over. Chuckling lightly, he allowed his mind to stray upon the topic of military men and girls. To tell the truth, most of them were pathetic, and others (like Havoc, the poor chap) simply had horrible luck. If he remembered correctly, the second lieutenant held the record of the fastest reject ever in military history (2 seconds after introduction). Even the higher brass had their humiliating moments, and Roy somehow had the impression that he was the only one who had not been dumped publicly by any of his dates (they only lasted a day at most, and he was merely fulfilling his obligation as a gentleman and a representative of the army. He couldn't let them get the idea that the military was neglecting the people, could he?). Besides, who needed some clingy bimbo when he could find someone infinitely better right in front of him?

Musings aside, Roy regretfully returned to reality and the awaiting mountain of pressed white fibres menacingly dominating what he used to call his desk.

"That went rather well, didn't it?" he drawled, smiling at Riza.

"If you say so, sir. Are you sure that it's alright?"

He waved off her concerns with an air of supreme arrogance. "The generals won't report this, if that's what you're saying; not unless they want half of HQ fired on one of the most important days in military history and risk court martial themselves." Knowing from the silence that she had seen the logic in his statement, he paused, then added as an afterthought, "Hawkeye, I need you to collect the money from the men before they spend it. I did say that the photos were for the yard sale."

As Riza Hawkeye placed her hand on the handle of Roy's office door, she heard her colonel call out in an unusually cheeky tone.

"I _told_ you they'd be gone by nine."

* * *

_**Time: 1100 hours**_

_**Location: Military Warehouse A, Central HQ**_

"Is that all?" Roy queried as a unit of soldiers transported the few crates into the dingy warehouse.

One corporal saluted stiffly. "That's it, sir."

Roy nodded, satisfied, and dismissed the movers. He examined the labels of the wooden surfaces of each crate to double-check their contents, undaunted by the fact that most had "Caution! Highly Flammable" painted on them in warning red.

"Sodium… check. Strontium… check. Barium… yep…" muttered the alchemist to himself as he passed over each crate. "And we have potassium and caesium… and of course lycopodium and gunpowder…"

Here, he broke off and surveyed the crates approvingly. Time to get down to work.

Taking out a stick, the Flame Alchemist swiftly traced out a circle in the dirt that encompassed the wooden boxes. He then marked out a square within the shape and drew four more circles at each corner. The addition of another quadrilateral and a few alchemic symbols completed his transmutation circle. He tossed the stick aside and spread his palms on the outermost line. Concentration was reflected intensely within his obsidian eyes.

There was a trace of red sparks and the musty smell of ashes before a brilliant white light illuminated the warehouse.

* * *

_**Time: 1230 hours**_

_**Location: Courtyard, Central HQ**_

The fair was in full blow when the Elric brothers entered the compound. Al had an excited air about him, this being the first time in a long while since he came to such an event, but Ed's mood showed clearly on his face; he was perfectly unwilling to be at the headquarters.

"Why must we do this again?" the older sibling complained, stomping through the throng of blue-clad officers and brightly-dressed civilians. He wouldn't admit it within an inch of his life, but he was not used to such crowds, and being in the presence of a mass of happy people unnerved him. "I don't even see the point of this."

"Come on, nii-san," Al tried to appease his sibling. "It's only for a few hours. And aren't all State Alchemists required to attend?"

"Yeah? So what? Doesn't mean that I have to support every single piece of crap that the military cooks up," was the disgruntled reply.

"But you spent so long on your project; it's a pity to waste it."

Ed sighed. He knew that his brother was enjoying the cheery atmosphere and was eager to start exploring the compound. Perhaps it would be good to take a break off their constant search for the Philosopher's Stone after all.

"I suppose we could enjoy it, just this once," he admitted, allowing a small smile to grace his features.

_**Concurrently…**_

"Hello friends!"

Havoc raised his head on hearing the gleeful voice. Recognising the speaker, he immediately got to his feet. Maes, however, waved off his salute in favour of introducing his family.

"No need for that. Gracia, these are Roy's minions. The chain smoker is Havoc, the tall one is Falman, the one eating that hot dog is Breda and the boy in glasses is Fuery. Everyone, this beautiful and amazing lady is none other than my wife." The last part was said in a tone that showed no end in the devotion Maes had to the brown-haired woman beside him.

Gracia Hughes smiled demurely and nodded in acknowledgement. Greetings of "Pleased to meet you" and handshakes were exchanged between the five. From behind Gracia's light brown skirt, a small head peeped out shyly with round, shining eyes.

"Papa, who are these people?" she piped in a chirpy, questioning voice.

Her father immediately adopted a look of fatherly pride as he gazed down at his daughter.

"Elysia-chan, you remember Uncle Roy, don't you? These are his good friends."

Elysia responded to this with a brilliant smile that made the hearts of all present melt. Maes lifted the three year old and began twirling her round in circles.

"That's my little girl. Don't you think she's the perfect epitome of cuteness? And she looks soooooo adorable in this pink dress," he gushed.

Elysia laughed happily as she was taken on this make-shift merry-go-round, her shrieks of joy permeating the noisy air like a set of jingling bells.

The four men were won over. Annoying as Maes might be with his uncanny obsession over his daughter and the never ending flood of photographs, they had to admit that the three-year-old was just too cute and angelic to be not liked by anyone who met her. Thus, another four dedicated 'uncles' joined the family.

"So, where's Roy?" asked Maes as he set Elysia down gently.

Breda shrugged. "Chief made us take charge of the stall," he explained between munches. "Then he ran off to goodness knows where."

"Maybe he's got a date," Falman suggested.

Havoc scowled when he heard that and turned away sulkily. Earlier that day, he had tried to ask out yet another female officer. Suffice to say, his luck with the fairer sex still remained unchanged.

The highest ranking soldier in the group suddenly stood straight up with a mischievous look on his face. "Why don't you guys take a break for a moment? I'm sure that my two princess won't mind if you tag along with us for the rest of the day."

"But sir," Fuery objected uneasily. "We still have the stall to look after."

"I'll have one of my privates to come down and man it for the time being. Why come all the way here if you're not going to have any fun?"

"Technically, being in the military isn't about having fun," Falman corrected. No one heeded him. The others were already picking up their wallets (which contained what miserable amounts of cash that remained from the last payday) and preparing to depart.

"So we're all agreed, then," Maes noted cheerfully. Glasses gleaming conspirationally, he leaned in and added, "And who knows, we might catch Colonel Flame on his 'date'."

* * *

_**Time: 1236 hours**_

_**Location: Colonel Office, Central HQ**_

Roy gazed morosely at the robust scene laid out right under his nose. His eyes then traced a path towards his paper-cluttered desk. As he had been doing for the past few hours, the colonel signed and mentally berated the forces responsible for keeping him indoors on this particular day. How long would he have to endure this torture?

Not for long, apparently. As Roy reached for the next stack of papers, he abruptly realized that _there were none left_! Rejoice! All of a sudden, the world brightened. The rain ceased, the sun shone, the flowers bloomed and the birds chirped. Hurray for freedom!

"Chuui, the forms are ready," the raven-haired man's calm tone barely betrayed the immense joy and relief within him.

Slightly surprised, Riza looked up to see that indeed, the reports and forms were all dated and signed. Standing up, she began her usual task of sorting out the papers to be submitted.

"Hawkeye-chuui?"

"Hai, taisa? You may leave now if you wish," the blond woman replied without pausing in her work.

Roy looked at her oddly and started carefully, "Aren't you going to the fair?"

She replied in her usual deadpanned manner, "No, sir. I do not see the need to."

Roy hesitated. Truth be told, he did not want to get on the bad side of Riza Hawkeye. With her cool demeanor and habits that were bordering on those of a workaholic (not to mention her skill with guns and her willingness to use them), the man felt slightly intimidated by her. However, he knew that beneath this 'ice princess'-esque exterior was a warm and caring person who would do her utmost best for those close to her. Roy made up his mind. He hoped feverishly that his lieutenant's kinder side was out in the open today.

"Hawkeye," he began firmly. "It won't do for you to waste your life away in an office. You need to let loose once in a while."

Roy nearly flinched at the incredulous look she sent his way, but plowed on regardless. He was feeling rather brave, anyway. "The paperwork is completed, and you can send in that stack on Monday. You need a break now."

Raising an eyebrow at the sudden outburst, Riza rebutted, "If I were to take this recommended break, sir, the only reasonable place I would go to is home, where I will end up doing the work for Monday."

"I'm going to – to patrol the grounds in case someone decides to interrupt the event," Roy cursed the nervousness that made him stumble, and hoped that she did not notice it. "Coming along?"

The sniper surprised her superior by smiling at him. "Taisa, are you by any chance asking me to go to the fair with you?"

"NO!" There was an awkward pause, before Roy hacked out a few coughs to hide his embarrassment. He tried to think up a feasible reason. "I just… um… A terrorist might attack the headquarters, so I need someone to guard my back. Yep. Just in case."

He winced inwardly at the lame excuse. Dang it, where had all his smooth-talking skills run off to when he seriously needed them?

The smile on Riza's face had widened into a full-blown grin. Roy gulped.

"With all due respect, sir, you are a lousy liar."

* * *

_**Time: 1308 hours**_

_**Location: 'Snipers' Fest!', Courtyard, Central HQ**_

"Nii-san, don't you think that bear is cute?"

Ed looked up in bemusement at Al's comment. The younger of the two was pointing with an outstretched finger at a plush toy propped up on a shelf at one of the game booths. The teddy bear had a coat of shiny yet downy chestnut fur, shiny black eyes and a round button nose. However, what had caught Al's eye was not the typical traits of such stuffed toys, but rather the bear's outfit. It was clad in a small pair of overalls, complete with suspenders, with the word mechanic stitched onto its front pocket. It even had a cloth wrench in one of its paws.

A brief image of his childhood friend throwing her wrench at him flashed through Ed's mind, causing him to blanch. "Of all things, Al, you had to remind me of that machine freak."

Alphonse contemplated the bear thoughtfully. "I thought so too. It does resemble Winry."

Ed huffed and resumed his walking, but something made him halt in his steps. A long time had passed since the brothers had last visited their hometown of Resembool, and on the few times they had returned, it was only to have Ed's automail fixed so that they could continue with their travels. It then struck the teen that besides the occasional word of thanks, he had never shown his gratitude to Winry Rockbell for all the effort she had put into his prosthetic arm and leg. And it would be nice to see her smile like she used to when they were all innocent children, before her parents' deaths and all that human transmutation business.

"Can't believe I'm taking Colonel-Bastard's advice," he muttered darkly before raising his voice a little. "Hey Al? How much does this cost?"

"A hundred sens for two shots, nii-san."

Looking the stall up and down, Ed concluded that one had to shoot down the assortment of goods on the shelves. Any item shot down could be kept by the shooter.

"Gimme a gun," said the youth, slamming a coin onto the counter.

The man in charge of the stall grinned at him and handed down a brown plastic rifle. Ed, not having taken any shooting courses, puzzled on how to hold the fake weapon. He held it out, as one might hold a pistol, before realizing that the length of the barrel caused an uneven distribution in weight. Trying out an alternative, he gripped the handle and supported the barrel with his over hand. It felt right, and from the expectant way the stallholder was looking at him, Ed proudly surmised that he had gotten the hang of it. Now all he had to do was aim…

"Damned counter…"

Ed tried to prop his elbows on the countertop, but slipped off when the action caused his feet to rise off the ground. Growling, he attempted to tiptoe, only to crash onto the ground in a heap when he tripped over a protruding pebble. Still clutching the rifle, Ed picked himself up and started glaring at the offending piece of Central's geography that was (partially) responsible for his current woes (the other, more important cause being his miserable height-to-volume ratio, but he was not going to admit that).

"Um… sir?" the stallholder suggested tentatively. "There's a box over there, if you need to use it."

* * *

_**Time: 1523 hours**_

_**Location: 'Test Your Strength', Courtyard, Central HQ**_

"Why, it's Armstrong-shousa!" Falman said in surprise, saluting sharply. His three colleagues followed suit.

The massive figure before them turned around. Narrowed eyes scrutinized them and lit up with recognition.

"Oho!" the giant of a man exclaimed in a booming voice, w-shaped moustache twitching. "Falman, Havoc, Breda and Fuery! What a surprise to see you here!" Noticing Maes, Armstrong, too, raised his right hand. "And a good day to you, Hughes-chuusa, sir."

The bespectacled man laughed and patted Armstrong. "Forget the formalities, Alex. We're all here to enjoy the festivities today. I don't suppose you've met my wife, Gracia, or my daughter, Elysia?"

Gracia smiled slightly and murmured a soft greeting. Major Armstrong, being a man of infinite good breeding and gentlemanly grace due to his high station in life, sunk into a deep bow and responded courteously, "It is a great pleasure to meet you, ma'am. My name is Alex Louis Armstrong."

"The pleasure's mine, Armstrong-shousa. Maes has told me much about you."

Armstrong nodded, and his eyes lit upon the tiny (in comparison to him, at least) figure of Elysia. "Oh, so this is the little girl that chuusa has been boasting about! She looks even more charming in the flesh than in the photographs! Ma'am, your daughter will grow up to be a fine beauty."

Upon hearing the compliment, Maes dramatically burst into tears of joy.

"At last! Someone who agrees!" he cried.

Ignoring her husband's antics, Gracia replied, "Oh, no sir. You give us too much credit."

"Nonsense! What I said was but the truth. After all, the ability of foresight has been passed down the noble Armstrong line for generations and generations!"

With the exception of Maes (who was still screaming "At last! At long last!" in the background), everyone in the group sweatdropped at the major's words. It didn't help that pink sparkles had appeared out of nowhere and were now hovering around the man's giant form.

Suddenly, a shrill but familiar cry pierced the lively atmosphere.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A BEAN SPROUT SO TINY THAT HE WON'T GET SQUASHED EVEN IF YOU STEP ON HIM!!!?"

"Oh dear," Havoc commented.

"I think we know who that is," Falman said sagely as the others nodded.

Maes grinned. "Let's go see what trouble our young prodigy has gotten himself into now."

It did not take them long to find the source of the shout a.k.a. one Edward Elric. He was at a game booth named 'Test Your Strength'. Apparently the stallholder had voiced some doubts about the boy being able to lift the mallet, which had let to Ed's earlier outburst.

"Fine," Ed was saying as he shoved a few coins into the man's clean-shaven face. "Gimme that mallet and I'll show you."

Al was, as usual, trying to prevent his brother from making rash decisions. "Nii-san, you really shouldn't-"

But it was too late. Ed had already swung the mallet at the metal disc attached to the game machine.

There was a loud "Clang!" as wood bashed against steel. The reverberations of the disc sent a wooden bar shooting up a marked pole.

"Whoosh!" Pass the 10-point mark.

"Whoosh!" Pass 20.

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!" 30, 40, 50.

"Whooooooo….. clack," The bar finally came to rest halfway between the 80 and 90 markers.

Havoc whistled. "Not bad, kiddo."

"Indeed, Edward Elric. You must have been in constant training to achieve a physical strength of this level," Armstrong rumbled.

Ed turned and smiled when he saw the parties who had offered him the compliments. His smile widened when he realized that colonel Mustang was absent from the group. The Fullmetal Alchemist realized that with luck, he just might be able to spend a fun-filled, Flame-free day at the fair.

"Thanks, Armstrong-shousa," he replied, before proceeding to greet the rest of the gang.

Meanwhile, something about Ed's score at the game sent Maes' mental alarm bells ringing. This was not quite right.

"Alphonse!" he whispered to the younger Elric.

"Yes, chuusa?"

"What did your brother do at the game?"

"Oh, that," Al sighed as he fiddled with a teddy bear in his hands. He knew that someone would be able to see through Ed's trickery. "Nii-san used his right hand to hold the mallet. All he had to do then was to swing and let his automail to the rest."

"I knew it." Having his theory affirmed by Al satisfied Maes, and he made no further pursuit in the issue.

"It really was nothing," Ed was saying to an impressed Armstrong. "I bet you'd beat me in an instant."

"But of course!" the man was on another of his passionate tirades. "Strength is an inherent trait in the Armstrong family line! However, it is unbecoming to boast openly about one's virtues of self."

Ed, tickled, decided to egg on the major. "Give it a try, shousa. I'm sure that no one will object to seeing a live demonstration of the Strong Arm Alchemist's skills. In fact, it might benefit the civilians, since they can see your prowess firsthand."

Armstrong paused and considered the youth's words. In the end, his righteous spirit and sense of justice won over.

"Very well, if you put it that way," he consented graciously and addressed the stallholder. "Good sir, lend me a mallet, if you please."

The man goggled at Armstrong's huge bulk for a moment before taking the coins from the major's hand and passing over a mallet. The wooden hammer seemed almost toy sized in those gigantic hands.

Striding to the front of the metal disc, Armstrong took a deep breath. Exhaling mightily, he lifted the mallet. Simultaneously, he ripped off his blue military jacket and revealed his upper torso for all to see.

"Oh dear," Al, Maes, Havoc, Falman, Breda and Fuery said in unison.

Armstrong flexed his muscles, showing off the flowing lines and smooth sinews that befitted his name and title. Pink sparkles danced around him merrily and a spotlight focused on him. This, of course, defied all the laws of physics or alchemy or even any form of science, but the deep mysteries of the Armstrong family were better left unsolved by the common man.

At this sight, Ed could hold himself back no longer and burst out in a fit of hysterics. Armstrong posed for a full ten seconds in his splendid muscular glory (while various passers-by gawped at him) before he decided that the world was done admiring his well-toned physique.

"Behold the magnificent strength that has been passed down the Armstrong family line for generations and generations!"

… Or maybe not.

With a powerful downward stroke, the Strong Arm Alchemist brought the mallet onto the disc.

If the 'Clang!' Ed had produced was loud, then this one was thunderous. The disc shook violently as though it were having a fit, and the tall pole it was attached to look as if it had suddenly been seized with spasms. The bar literally flew off its handle, knocking off the top of the pole and soaring away into the vast blue sky, never to be seen again. Then, the circular piece of metal gave way under the strain of continuous vibrations, shattering into tiny fragments that ricocheted in all directions. Ed had a close shave as one whizzed past him, nearly grazing his cheek. As with every outdoor accident, and huge cloud of dust was kicked up, inducing coughs from everyone in the vicinity. When the mass of debris and other particles settled down, what lay before the group's eyes was a scene of carnage.

Armstrong, ever the man of good breeding and chivalrous character, was apologising to the stallholder. "It was my fault that your booth is unable to function, and for that I do beg your pardon. As an apology, please allow me to erect another structure in place of yours so that your business will not be compromised."

It seemed as though the major had his mind set on the task, for he was undeterred by the other man's repeated assurances that compensations were unnecessary. The Strong Arm Alchemist examined the ruined machine with an expert eye as he speedily devised a way to repair it. Flexing his muscles, he sparkled profusely and donned his spiked gloves.

"Behold the splendor of the alchemy passed down (&etc.)!"

With that cry, he rammed a powerful fist onto the ground. Lights flashed, muscles rippled and sparkles waltzed. Amidst the stunning display, a monolithic structure rose from the ground and stood proudly under the afternoon sun. It was exactly like the old one. That is, exactly if not for the added sheen and the sculpture of Armstrong flexing his biceps, triceps and the remainder of however many muscles he possessed at the very top. It even had little wooden sparkles suspended above it with the aid of thin metal rods. Beside his masterpiece, Armstrong struck an identical pose. The sparkles around him were in a frenzy now; they multiplied and twinkled rapidly in a shimmering cloud, blinding any poor unfortunate soul who happened to be nearby.

"My eyes… they burn!" Maes whimpered piteously.

Ed, who was the only one close enough to hear the lieutenant colonel, was too busy clutching his own visionary organs to worry about him.

"I hereby present this artistic piece of alchemy to you," the tall major proclaimed cheerily and patted the stallholder's shoulders with both hands. "May it serve you well in your endeavor."

The poor man was stunned into speechlessness. He gazed wide-eyed and dazedly at his new game machine, and seemed oblivious to Armstrong's words. At the heavy pat on his shoulders, he simply sagged and collapsed.

The five other officers and the two brothers felt their hearts go out to the man. In sympathy, they sent him their silent condolences.

* * *

_**Time: 1655 hours**_

_**Location: S.S.E. end, Parade Grounds, Central HQ**_

"As such, ladies and gentlemen," said Edward Elric to an assembled mass of people. "I proudly present my project."

Grinning with the air of one who has lived to see the fruits of his labour, the Fullmetal Alchemist seized two corners of a red tasseled cloth and yanked the fabric off to reveal what it concealed.

Members of the crowd 'ooooh'-ed and 'ahhhh'-ed at the sight that met their eyes. They nudged and whispered to each other, pointing at Ed's work, but their tones were full of admiration and appreciation.

At the centre of a roped-off area specially deemed for his purpose, Edward stood beside his brother and basked under the glory of his work: a statue of himself astride a rearing horse. The replica was clad in a suit of shinning mail and leather, complete with the raised sword and flowing red cape which bore the insignia that he usually wore on his back. A confident smile was etched onto his visage, and fierce golden pupils looked challengingly into the distance as though daring his foes to cross his path. Somehow, even though the main material was stone, Ed had been able to alchemically render his work in full colour. From the details of the sculpture, such as the mane of the horse which looked as if it were actually rippling in the wind, the onlookers could clearly tell that the youth had spent much effort in his project.

"Good afternoon, Fullmetal."

Hearing the familiar voice out of the blue (no pun intended) caused Ed's face to fall. So much for hoping that his day would pass without a hitch. But he would not let Roy ruin the moment. Let the bastard yap all he wanted; this was Ed's instance of triumph and he was going to savour it.

"You know, that sculpture of yours isn't really accurate."

Ed spared Roy a glare. Knight-Ed was flawless. The jerk was just trying to irk him.

Roy sighed and ran a hand through the thin black strands of his fringe. Fullmetal was being childish again (and why was he not surprised). Still, no one would expect him to see what any person with decent eyesight could spot in an instant: Knight-Ed was too tall to be an authentic representation of his maker. But if the young alchemist wanted things his way… well… Roy could play the same game.

The colonel continued smoothly, "Since misleading information is dangerous to public health, I'm afraid I'll have to do something about this."

Ed stared at Roy in askance. Now what was he – wait, he was raising his hand in that snapping position. His _gloved_ hand. The blond alchemist's eyes locked onto a very familiar array embroidered in red thread on the back of the otherwise untainted white cloth. Oh no. He wasn't–

"NOOOOOOO!!"

Ed knew it was too late even as he dived in to save his magnum opus. Roy had already snapped, and the spark was racing speedily towards the hapless Knight-Ed. With a muffled 'boom', the figure went up in smoke.

The Fullmetal could have cried there and then. His masterpiece was gone. The proof of all those work, those days of endless toil, those sweat and blood and sleepless nights was now…

…Intact? Indeed, Knight-Ed was still mounted on his rearing stallion and looking as lordly as ever. Ed blinked stupidly as his befuddled mind buzzed within his skull, trying to work out the situation. Roy _had_ snapped. There _had_ been a spark, and anyway the dispersing cloud of soot was evidence enough of an explosion. So why was Knight-Ed not torched to cinders?

"There, all better," Roy noted nonchalantly. He turned to leave and Riza followed with the usual two-step gap.

Beside his older brother, Al started shaking with suppressed laughter. Several spectators were less conservative, breaking out into roars of mirth. It was only then that Ed's genius and excellent analytic skills caused him to hit upon the answer. Upon enlightenment, his face took on a strikingly rich blend of red and purple.

Knight-Ed was standing all right, with the same inspiring expression on his features. However, he now lacked a certain characteristic aspect, namely the trademark strand of hair that always stood so straightly at the top of his head. It had been incinerated by Roy with the perfect measure of fire and explosion, and thus not a char or burn mark remained to scar the statue's outer appearance. On the other hand, albeit still being taller than the real one, Knight-Ed had suffered a drastic decrease in height. The noble knight had made a great sacrifice for the greater good of his people, and would have a place in the military's tales for many years to come. His creator, though, refused to be appeased.

"ARGH! I'M SO GOING TO KILL THAT FRICKIN' ASSHOLE!!!"

* * *

_**Time: 1739 hours**_

_**Location: Somewhere in the Middle of the Parade Grounds, Central HQ**_

"Where – is – that – son – of – a –"

"Nii-san, calm down! You can't just go after Mustang-taisa like that!"

Ed spun around abruptly and gave his brother a look that sent shivers down the younger Elric's (figurative) spine. An unnatural light shone in the Fullmetal Alchemist's bright golden eyes, reflecting a strong desire for murder. Edward wanted blood. But his hunger will not be sated by a mere nobody's blood. He wanted the blood of Colonel Roy Mustang, alias Flame Alchemist. Additionally, it'd be good to see his mangled and decapitated corpse splattered all over the pavement.

"I can't, can I?" he chuckled ominously and rubbed the palms of his hand together. A malicious grin stretched from the ends of his lips. "But I will. Soon, Mustang, soon…"

Here, various scenarios of the colonel's death (most of which were violent and gory) flashed through his currently warped mindscape, causing him to cackle wildly.

Alphonse was starting to get spooked by his sibling's peculiar behaviour. Fortunately for him, something else and caught Ed's attention and led him to look at a nearby tent.

"Hey Al, doesn't that sound like Hughes?"

Al listened to the indistinct words emitting from the tent. "I think so."

"Isn't he with his family and Mustang's gang?"

"I thought he was."

Curiosity piqued, Ed approached the tent, which was a simple thing made out of several brightly-coloured cloths propped up by metal poles. A sign beside it read "FULLMETAL VS FLAME – NOW PLAYING". Ed shoved open the tent flap and came face-to-face with a radio atop a rickety table.

"Oh, I see. This must be a recording of the commentary made by Hughes when you fought Mustang-taisa," Al concluded.

"Yeah, I gathered as much. This must be Intelligence's doing. Meh, let's go then."

Ed froze in his exit as the recorded voices of a crowd shouted out a few comments targeted at his height ("How small!", "He's just a school kid!", "Good luck, shorty!").

Without warning, a metal fist slammed into the front of the offending device. There was a loud crash before silence settled in the tent. The radio lay on the ground, smashed into bits.

"Still stirring up trouble wherever you go, Fullmetal?"

Roy stood by the entrance, a hand raised to keep the tent flap off his pressed blue uniform. The expression he wore was one of absolute patience, akin to what one might have when dealing with a particularly stubborn child.

Ed, still in his insult-induced rage, saw the very person he was seeking out. All reason left him as he leapt in for the kill.

"Mustang," he snarled.

Sensing trouble, Al tried to grab him, but failed as he nimbly jumped out of the way.

Roy was unperturbed even though Ed obviously meant business. He simply took a step backwards and allowed the tent flap to fall right into the youth's face. The shorter alchemist rammed into it and tumbled to the ground at the colonel's feet. This prompted a string of curses.

"You know better than to let your emotions run away with you," chastised Roy mildly.

"Shut it, bastard. I'm not the one who tried to play the hero when it was raining, even though he was _completely useless_."

The insult hit its mark. Roy narrowed his eyes as something within him snapped. A threatening aura permeated from his previously calm demeanor.

"Say that again, _chibi_," he spoke, softly and dangerously.

Ed laughed mockingly without regards to the peril he had gotten himself into. "Hit a nerve, did I? No wonder; you _are_ utterly helpless around water." He pulled back a fist and let it fly.

"This comes from the mite who's too short to wear trousers," countered Roy as he avoided the attack.

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING A MIDGET SO TINY THAT HE'D DROWN IN A PUDDLE!!!?" Another vicious punch, this one with more force.

"Now what did we say about allowing emotions to get the better of us?" Roy taunted as he leaned sideways so that Ed's clenched hand brushed past him harmlessly. Swiftly, he straightened his arm and snapped.

Watching the two from inside the tent, Alphonse and Riza sighed in unison.

"Really, nii-san and taisa are both being very childish."

The lieutenant agreed wholeheartedly. "This will take some time."

Looking for a way to pass the time until the dueling pair had settled down, Al came upon the ruined radio and took it upon himself to repair it. It was one of the standard military issues, and so he knew enough of its composition to complete the whole business in a matter of seconds.

"… _Now we will commence with the duel of Fullmetal VS Flame!"_

Maes' commentary had also been restored, this time with increased volume, though a certain pair of State Alchemists were too preoccupied with their current affairs to pay attention.

"… _Mustang-taisa takes the stage immediately with his fire alchemy! Whew, Edward must be roasting down there!"_

Roy carefully took aim and snapped. A barrage of fireballs formed in the air and whizzed towards Ed. Steadily, the colonel set off explosion after explosion. He felt a slight satisfaction when his ears picked up a yelp somewhere behind the billowing clouds of smoke.

"… _close shave there, Fullmetal! But it looks like Edward's got something up his sleeve…"_

The smoke and dust cleared, but Ed was nowhere to be seen. Roy caught a flash of red in his peripheral vision and twisted away in the nick of time. That kick would have caused quite a bruise had it connected. His opponent landed and clapped his hands together, warning the Flame Alchemist of an incoming transmutation.

As he expected, a row of towering spikes rushed towards him amidst flashes of blue light. He rolled out of the way and snapped in rapid succession, igniting the tips of the deadly stone formations and rendering them into ashes. But Ed was not quite done. When Roy turned, the Fullmetal Alchemist had disappeared again. Too late he spotted the shadow at his feet and barely avoided a slash by the teen's transmuted automail blade.

"Hah! Think you're so great now?" Ed shouted.

"… _but Mustang is undaunted! The Flame still burns!"_

A burst of fire sent his way was Roy's reply. He ducked at the last moment, but the colonel felt sure that he had at least singed a few strands of blond hair (and with luck his precious antennae).

Meanwhile, amidst the chaos and destruction, someone had altered the wordings on the signboard. "NOW PLAYING" had been crossed out, and the freshly painted letters spelled out "LIVE".

Additionally, the commotion had attracted quite a large crowd, though majority of them was under the (incorrect) impression that Roy and Ed were putting on a performance for their entertainment. The sign did not improve matters either, and already several betting joints had sprung up like mushrooms amongst the military men watching the 're-match'.

As such, the announcement that followed came at the optimum moment for the event whose commencement it scheduled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Amestris Military Yard Sale and Food and Fun Fair will be drawing to a close. We hope that you have enjoyed yourselves today. Before you depart, feel free to proceed to the parade grounds to view the closing performance by none other than the Flame Alchemist, Roy Mustang-taisa. Thank you and have a nice evening."

One might be certain that this caused much excitement and confusion in the mass of people already gathered. Wasn't this colonel Mustang's performance? Did he make a mistake and started early? Or did he have something else planned in his line-up?

"… _Flame is keeping up his assault, but Fullmetal is still in the race! Can Ed find a way past the blazing infernos?"_

Roy contemplated on the unexpected turn of events. Dodging Ed's anger-driven attacks with relative ease (and looking oh-so-poserly as he did so), the colonel took the opportunity to extract his silver watch from the depths of his pockets. Glancing at the time, he realised that he was indeed due for the aforementioned performance, but the presence of the Fullmetal Alchemist prevented him from carrying out his duty. Now, a lesser man might have been at a lost when faced with such predicaments, but not Roy. Looking back at the very pissed off Edward, the Flame Alchemist merely smirked and took everything in his stride, as usual.

Stopping abruptly, the man executed a rapid 180-degree spin which allowed him to face his audience and to avoid Ed's subsequent charge (which caused the teen to land face-first on the hard, stone tiles. Painful.)

"… _That must've been quite a scorch!"_

"Greetings to all ladies and gentlemen gathered here on this fine evening," Roy called out jovially. For good measure (and to keep up impressions), he winked sensuously and smirked in the way which he knew women found to be "downright sexy". "My regards especially to the ladies."

There were a few scattered squeals of delight, but most of the female population in Central had already fainted at the deadly, lady-killing move.

Smirk still in place, Roy continued, "You have probably witnessed the…'mock duel' between the Fullmetal Alchemist and myself. However, that was simply a prelude to my actual performance. So please, my esteemed audiences, sit back and enjoy the show."

So saying, he subtly reached into his other pocket and withdrew a small leather pouch. He undid the drawstrings and dipped his gloved fingers into it. The pristine whiteness came out a dull, powdered grey. Shifting impatiently, the crowd waited for him to begin.

As he had done countless times before, the Flame Alchemist raised his hand and snapped.

"Fwsst!"

This time, instead of igniting the fires of destruction, Roy Mustang lit up the alchemical mixture of active metals and gunpowder smeared on his fingertips. The result was a climbing rocket of light that burst apart into red, blue and gold sparkles. The glimmering shower rained down gently on the masses, leaving them waiting for more with bated breaths. Roy was only too eager to oblige.

"… _Divisionary tactics! Nice move there, Ed!"_

Behind him, Edward grinned evilly. So Colonel God-complex was busy with his pretty little light show. Now was the chance to smash up his smirking face and rub his over-inflated ego in the dirt!

With a battlecry that would have been fearsome to the ear had it not been drowned out by the roar of the fireworks, Edward made his move.

"RAWR – oof!"

"_Too bad it didn't work!"_

The startled cry (which was also muffled by the show of pyrotechnics and the sounds of things going boom) was mainly due to the fact that Roy had deftly emptied the contents of his bag on the blond-haired teen.

"Hey! –cough– Whatcha' doin' you –cough cough– "

Roy went on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you… the grand finale."

"What the hell –cough– are you –cough cough cough– "

Snapping his fingers, Roy conjured up a giant fire dragon. Its great serpentine body was fully composed of flames which flickered and danced under the darkening sky. The red, orange and yellow fused into one another in an endless loop of colours, producing an ever-changing pattern that was intricate and mesmerizing. The creature hovered above the heads of the crowd while undulating its massive body. In an instant, it soared up into the sky and vanished, leaving naught but fading trails of fire to mark its passing.

Amidst the cheering and shouts of approval that ensued, no one noticed that the dragon had taken one small (perhaps that was why he went unnoticed) boy with it on its blazing journey to the heavens.

"…_And the Flame Alchemist is victorious! Good going, Roy-boy!"_

**End Part II**

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**A/N: **That's about it, folks. An epilogue's coming up, but that one shouldn't be too long. And I know that Hughes ran off in the anime after announcing the start of the match, but they didn't say so in the manga, so I took it that he did a commentary and ran away when they had to clean up. Note that the commentary was what happened during the first 'Fullmetal VS Flame', but just happened to coincide with their 're-match'. The sculpture that Armstrong created is similar to the one he made as Lior in _Conqueror of Shamballa_, and Ed's is somewhat like Chang Mei's manifestations. 

Remember that reviews are to writers what growth hormones are to Ed.

- Quetz.


	3. Epilogue

**A/N: **Okay, here's the ending to round it all up. To my reviewers:

**Marina:** Thanks for your comments. I try to keep the characters IC unless the situation calls for it, though you could say that it's due to my over-obsession on the manga... And yes, one of my favourite part of the series is the verbal sparring between Ed and Roy. Sadly, they don't go on for very long, though I'm satisfied with a short joke or two.

**Harryswoman:** Thanks. I have nothing against Ed! I swear!

**Yun Min:** Ed reacts to any hints of 'shortness'. That's what makes him so bulliable

**Disclaimers: **Me no own fma. All rights belong to Hiromu Arakawa, Funimation, Square Enix and the rest.

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**Epilogue**

_**Time: 1910 hours**_

_**Location: Main entrance, Central HQ**_

The yard sale had ended, and the men were doing cleaning up the area. Most were tidying up the last vestiges of a mess in one overlooked corner or another, while others had already decided to call it a day.

Colonel Roy Mustang was a fortunate individual of the latter group, having taken care of all his paperwork that afternoon. Currently, he had taken it upon himself to persuade a loyal and hardworking subordinate to take a well-deserved rest. However, the subject was not cooperating.

"Taisa, I still need to submit these files. Unless you have something of importance to say, I suggest that you go home and get some sleep," Riza Hawkeye stated in an irate tone and fixed her superior with a stern look.

Roy groaned mentally and cast a distasteful glance at the pile of folders in her hands. Moral of the day: Paperwork is the root of all evil. But it was too early to surrender! Depriving his precious lieutenant of her rest was a crime that he would not leave unpunished!

"These are reports for the Intelligence Department." He pondered for a while. Charcoal eyes lit up as he spotted a person he could manipulate –ahem– ask for help. "Ah, Scieszka, do you mind dropping these off at the in-tray of Hughes-chuusa? He should know what to do with them."

"Y-yes sir," the brown-haired girl stuttered nervously. Taking the documents from Riza (who had relinquished them rather grudgingly), she turned hastily and scampered off without a backward glance.

"There," Roy turned to Riza with a satisfied smile. "Anything else that needs to be done?" He was prepared to forcibly drag her out of the compound if necessary.

Riza frowned. "Not particularly, sir," she admitted (Hallelujah! Joy to the world!).

"Excellent. It's still quite early, so what say you to dinner? My treat."

"But taisa, there are still– "

Not again. "No buts, Hawkeye. You've been working hard these few days; is it that bad to take some time off to relax?"

The sharpshooter hesitated. "What if we're spotted together by someone like a general?"

Roy had briefly considered the possibility of her asking that, and thus already had an answer. "They'll probably see it as two fellow officers celebrating after a day at the fair. That sort of sight isn't uncommon around here."

Riza gave a few more weak protests, but eventually gave in at Roy's persistent urging. "Just for tonight, I suppose," she consented in defeat.

Inwardly cheering, Roy managed to maintain his outward composure (unless you counted that added spring in his step). He took a few steps and turned around, grinning boyishly. "Aw, come on. You mean you didn't like my company this afternoon?"

"Considering that incident with Edward Elric, sir?"

Roy pouted childishly. "Riza, it's off-hours now; you don't have to use 'sir'. And I was fine before Fullmetal appeared."

He approached the blond woman and wrapped an arm around her waist. Riza flinched slightly and glared at her colonel with unmerciful red-brown eyes. He responded by sending her an 'I'm-a-poor-cold-and-hungry-puppy-so-please-pity-me' look. It was cute and almost irresistible. 'Almost' being the key word.

In a flash, Roy found a gun pointed right into his face.

"Crap," he thought and silently prayed for a quick and painless death.

Instead, Riza merely smirked and gave him a hard prod with the butt of her handgun.

"You, _sir_, are incorrigible."

She did allow his arm to stay in place, though.

_**Time: Unknown (but late enough that little kiddies should be in bed instead of staying up and reading fanfics like this)**_

_**Location: Outside a Random Inn in Central**_

A hunched figure hobbled wearily towards the entrance of the building, trailing the scent of dust and ashes. The long coat he was wearing was sooty and tattered, but one could just make out the red colouring beneath the layers of grime and filth. The stranger's blond hair was in a similar state: badly singed and frizzled to the extreme. He took a step forward, leaning painfully on a crude walking stick, before collapsing heavily onto the street outside the inn. Pain and exhaustion hit him head-on as he tried to get up, causing him to fall down again with twitching limbs.

"So… gonna… murder… that… bloody… bastard…"

**OWARI**

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**A/N: **The author begs forgiveness for the general messiness. The epilogue was written at roughly 0245 hours, and quetz wasn't in a very stable state of mind. It doesn't help that the holidays are ending (Which means back to waking up at 0600 hours -shudders-). I hope you've gotten a few laughs out of this fic, because I sure did. I'll be posting some new stuff on soon as I get the typed up. Stay tuned, folks. 

All reviewers will get a free photo of Colonel Roy Mustang in the final performance of the MYS (if you look closely you can see a small blob in the dragon -snickers-).

- Quetz.


End file.
